Not So Bad
by blakeBird
Summary: Keith honestly doesn't know how he found himself in this situation. He just somehow ended up on the couch with Lance's head resting in his lap, lightly drifting in and out of sleep while he ran his fingers through his short, chestnut hair. (Wumptober prompt: caregiver, platonic klance unless you have slash goggles.)


_***whumptober intensifies***_

Yo, what's up my dudes? Before you even _think of reading this,_ please go check out ImThatAcroBat's Whumptober Voltron fic because it's actually _so good that it made my brain implode._ _Hecking read it right now or I'll throw hands._

Today's prompt: caregiver

So this will feature some platonic Klance unless you squint for slash, so buckle up and enjoy the sickening amount of fluff.

xxx

Keith honestly doesn't know how he found himself in this situation.

He just somehow ended up on the couch with Lance's head resting in his lap, lightly drifting in and out of sleep.

All he did know was that Lance somehow managed to get sick enough to need supervision, and all the other paladins (plus Coran) had been busy with "peace meetings" and "public gatherings" and "setting a good image for the coalition". That left him to look after the slightly delirious, feverish Blue Paladin for a few hours.

By himself.

All alone.

With Lance sprawled in his lap.

It's not like he _asked_ Lance to just come and lay on him. He would rather not have the physical contact at all, thank you very much. Lance had been restless, tossing and turning and _complaining like the world was going to end_ before grabbing Keith's thigh, plopping his head down on it, and saying, "Be quiet and deal with it, the pillows are uncomfortable," in his throaty, gravelly voice that was ravaged by sickness.

In all fairness, Keith did acknowledge that Lance must have felt like hell. He sure looked like it. His short chestnut hair was plastered to his forehead from the sweat that covered his entire body, making his clothes miserably stick to him. A flush settled high over his cheekbones, the red color a stark contrast against the unusual paleness of his face. He was shivering relentlessly despite the blankets cocooned around him.

In other words, it must not have been fun. The healing pods apparently didn't heal non-life-threatening illnesses, so there was really nothing he could do but ride it out.

But that didn't mean that Keith had to _like_ Lance's head in his lap. It made him kind of uncomfortable if anything. He really didn't know what he was supposed to be doing, where he was supposed to focus his attention and put his hands because there was a seriously sick idiot _draped across him._ So Keith tried to focus on the book in his hands which was awkwardly held out to the side to avoid the Cuban's face.

He didn't know how he should feel about the contact. He protested _very aggressively_ at first, but how long was supposed to keep threatening a sick person? Then he was just left to sit and feel his face heat up because _this is so weird and embarrassing and I don't like it one bit._

Suddenly, Lance shifted just the tiniest bit, scrunching his nose up and sniffling slightly. He furrowed his brow and turned his head to soothe the apparent itch on the side of his straight nose, nuzzling against Keith's leg. Sniffling again, still half asleep, Lance gave a small half-swallow and shakily exhaled through his mouth, vocal chords humming and vibrating inside of his throat. The taller boy's body went still again, the only sign of movement being the shallow dipping of his broad chest as he breathed labored huffs through his mouth, almost comparable to snoring.

Keith, who had been frozen on the spot, slowly relaxed back into the couch and gazed at Lance's pained expression. Wow, he looked _really_ bad. The older boy sighed and marked the page in his book, setting it aside so he could readjust the compress on the other paladin's forehead. He tenderly reached out and tugged the cloth to the side; Lance practically melted into the touch as his expression softened, tension leaving his body.

 _Physical contact is what he needs..?_

Sighing as quietly as he could muster, Keith leaned his head back onto the sofa. Lance was _so_ going to owe him. _Especially_ if anyone found out.

Peeking over to make sure he was still asleep, Keith hesitantly let his fingertips graze over Lance's scalp, nearly jumping away when said teen hummed in satisfaction. He froze for half a second before realizing Lance hadn't woken up. Instead, he continued, gently carding now his long fingers through Lance's hair. Softly tugging out the tangles of his chestnut hair, a ghost of a smile traced Keith's face as he felt the younger boy relax against him. He let his hands wander down the base of Lance's neck, over his shoulders, down his spine; he was practically a puddle of limbs underneath Keith's touch.

Humming fondly, Keith picked up the discarded book with his free hand, clumsily flipping it open. He continued to read like that, fingernails tracing patterns over Lance's skin, the sound of faint breathing filling his ears.

Maybe this wasn't so bad after all.

xxx

I really hope you enjoyed this piece of self-indulgent crap because it was really fun to write instead of doing my very important dual credit homework. I've just had this idea in the back of my mind for so long and I was finally given the excuse to write it so like.

 **PLEASE CHECK OUT I'mThatAcroBat's FIC!** Seriously, read it. I've never read anything so intricately detailed.

THANKS FOR READING, I'M OFF TO THE SHADOW REALM.


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